


Playmaker

by sorrylatenew



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feminization, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9586577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrylatenew/pseuds/sorrylatenew
Summary: "You're so pretty here," Patrick says, tongue heavy in his mouth before he slicks it back down to Jonny's asshole, kisses him slow at the edge of that skin. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally started for the [highdicking](https://highdicking.dreamwidth.org/) prompt, "Sometimes Jonny and Kaner call Jonny's hole a pussy." Thanks for the A+ prompt, anon.
> 
> As always, thank you to allthebros for looking this over for me. <333333

Jonny still blushes—every time they do it.

He goes deep red like he does right after a hard workout—this violent color all down his throat, punched across his cheeks like sunburn, like it hurts. But he goes boneless and loose and easy too, soft and open for Patrick's cock.

Right now he'll go soft and open for his mouth, Patrick's tongue a wide swipe over his hole before he kisses the plump, shaved skin of Jonny's taint and asks him, "You want this pussy to feel good?"

He says it quiet, like always. He thinks maybe he blushes a little himself—at least feels the possibility of it in the the warmth that edges into his neck and rims his eyes, but Jonny can't see him anyway when Patrick doesn't wait for an answer, sucks in a slow mouthful of his skin and thinks about putting a hickey there. Some purple over the peach and maybe a little ache. A tender spot Jonny would feel later if he put his hands between his legs.

When he whispers, "Fuck," from up in their mess of pillows, the K at the end of it lost and softened, it's still a kind of 'fuck you,' even with his thighs splayed wide and a foot planted up high on Patrick's back, pressing down like an anchor.

Patrick just pulls more of his skin into his mouth, loves how much of it there is here and how easy it goes where he wants. Sucks at him harder, lets up, goes harder again.

He likes playing with him like this—when they do this. Right along Jonny's seam where he's fat with the heft of his balls, rounded and sensitive and not _quite_ where he wants Patrick to be, but right where it makes him think of it, where it makes both of them imagine it.

"You're so pretty," Patrick says, tongue heavy in his mouth before he slicks it back down to Jonny's asshole, kisses him slow at the edge of that skin. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

It doesn't feel like much of a lie. A little shift and it'd be straight truth. Pink pink in a way Patrick hadn't expected when he first opened Jonny up. Smooth and perfect and soft. Sweeter, deeper pink on the inside. 

It's always hard to pull himself away once he's there. He hadn't even known guys could look like this. 

He lets his mouth fill up with watery spit—too much. Flooded in underneath his working tongue until he wouldn't be able to talk if he tried to without tipping his head back. 

When he lets it go over Jonny's hole, warm and messy, spilled out between deep licks of him, Jonny's drenched in it—both of them, really. Patrick's chin slick down to his throat and Jonny obscenely open, as shiny wet as Patrick tells him he is next second, with thumbs stroking at him gentle, one on either side to pull him apart. 

He does—pull him apart. Slips a little in the mess, but not enough that he can't get a good look, press a soft kiss and another soft pass of his tongue, get a low groan from Jonny's chest and more pressure from that foot.

Jonny's pressed hard enough for long enough before that Patrick's spent the next day sore over the shoulder blade, spitting mad when he gets checked. But all it ever does while it's happening is get his dick stiff. An achy pulse between his legs in time with how strung up Jonny is—with the tension visibly rocking through his body.

"I bet you'd look so good," Patrick says, shifting so his cock's firm against the mattress, some relief. "You really would be so fucking pretty." He lifts himself, smooths a hand up around Jonny's dick so he can kiss the base, get another sound out of Jonny when he does.

"Come on, Pat," he whispers with his voice tight enough to snap, and Patrick looks up at him, at the color all over him again, the way his chest's moving with his breath. He holds in a sigh at the sight, presses his hips down harder into the mattress.

"Alright," he says, and starts a little pull on Jonny's cock, just with a couple fingertips. A slow downward tug on his foreskin to let the head out.

"Look at that," he says, and Jonny's dick jerks hard in his soft grasp, makes the side of Patrick's mouth pull up in a smile, makes his heart leap weird. "Do you know how hot this is? You already look good—you get wet for me just like this." And he taps another two fingertips with his free hand up where there's precome, watches it cling to him before he presses those fingers quick where he was before, into the hot skin under Jonny's balls.

"You'd be wet all the time, wouldn't you?" he asks, moving his fingers in a circle, clockwise and then back, a tight rub that he hopes Jonny can feel faint on his prostate. "If you were open here? God, I'd never fucking leave you alone."

And at that Jonny lets out a laugh, short and breathy, and Patrick has to smile again too, duck down for a fast nip of teeth into Jonny's thigh.

He lays his head there after, tucked close to watch what he's doing, Jonny's skin gathered up and smoothed out over and over around his fingers, stretchy and still sloppy with spit.

When he moves them down lower, where Jonny feels scorching hot and where Patrick knows he's ready, Jonny's whole body shivers under him, goes tense and then absolutely slack.

"You're open here, though," he says, and dips inside, feels that little clutch around him. "And I can make you wet, get you on my dick."

All he gets back is a strained out, "Jesus," and another, "Come on, Pat," but it's all he wants, and he gets himself up onto his knees, shuffles in until he's as close to the outstretched display of Jonny's thighs as possible.

He looks his fill, a long look at the red arc of Jonny's cock and the twitchy impatience in his abs, the way his hips keep shifting. He reaches over for the lube, squeezes out a little dollop and carefully smears it from Jonny's hole all the way up to his balls. Gets in one last rub over the seam of him before another squeeze of lube that he sinks inside with, all the way in smooth, as deep as his fingers'll go.

It's always one of his favorite parts, working his hands here. Knowing exactly where to press, exactly where to tag Jonny perfect, knowing how to get him to stop breathing, even. But on his third gasp for air, his mouth all open, eyebrows creased together, Jonny reaches down for a firm grip around Patrick's wrist, stops the movement.

"I'll come," he says in a hurt voice that means he's not lying, muscles tensed up, only loosening when Patrick pulls his hand free, lays it on top of Jonny's knee cap.

"You don't wanna come?" 

It's a stupid question Jonny ignores while he flips himself over, graceless in how he thumps into Patrick's legs.

He rights himself quick though, gets his knees under him and his ass up, thighs wide enough that he shows slick and open without needing to be pulled apart.

"Wanna do it on your cock," he says, an easier talker like this, and Patrick goes hot all over even though he knew it was coming, somehow goes both weak and heavy low _low_ in his belly, spread out hot like boiling water.

It's easier like this for Patrick, too. When he gets a little more lube, presses his dick inside at a crawl to watch Jonny take it, when he tips forward and then to the side, brings Jonny with him, keeps him snug, it's easier to say it here at the back of his neck, whispered out.

"I bet you'd squirt," he says, setting a steady rhythm, no question about his own blushing now—he can feel it too warm over his face. "I'd get my cock in your pussy like this and you'd squirt."

"Oh my god," Jonny says in that same hurt voice, fingers tight at the bend of his leg, holding it up to let Patrick get him deep, but he goes a little lax when Patrick gets a hand around the front to his stomach, puts it through all that slippy wet. His knuckles land in perfect position for Jonny's cock to glance off him in tiny bounces, stiff as it ever gets, and that's good. That does it good for Patrick.

It does it good for him too when Jonny gets a hand behind Patrick's head within the next few thrusts, sunk into his hair like he wants to feel him, keep him close. When he opens his mouth whatever it is he says gets jumbled on a hard roll of Patrick's hips, but comes out dirty rough when he catches his breath, low and hitching while he curves his lower back.

"Would you—eat your nut out after?"

Patrick has to squeeze his eyes shut at the sound of that. The image of it slams into him so suddenly. Disjointed and fast behind his eyelids—harder than it has at any other point that night. He slows his rocking right before he speeds it up, almost as involuntary as the moan that comes uneven from his throat. 

He doesn't know what Jonny would look like as a girl. Can't picture anything more than a vague foggy resemblance even when his cock isn't tapping up inside him, so what comes to him is just Jonny as he is. His face and his thick arms and the solid planes of his chest, but with thighs slicked and open like the nastiest porn, his pussy smeared over and hot with Patrick's come, waiting for his tongue. That flashing away, blinking into the actual picture Jonny makes after he's been dicked, hole blushed up and creamy sticky wet.

Patrick would put his mouth on every fucking part of him.

"You're gonna kill me." The words feel shaken out, wobbly and tight while Patrick reaches to help Jonny hold that leg up, tug him onto his dick. "You know I'd eat it," he says, fingers slipping in their combined sweat. "You _know_ I'd eat it." He pushes his lips to Jonny's neck, close to his ear, wants him to hear it. "Eat your cunt while you taste like me. Keep you like that, make you taste like me all fucking day."

It's almost too much. He feels lightheaded, flooded with airy hot butterflies like he's close to blowing, and Jonny doesn't seem far off either, rocking his hips back as best he can, punched out little grunts on every other breath.

"I'd give you one," Patrick whispers, goes redder than ever but keeps on. "Miss your pretty perfect dick too much—I'd miss it too much to give you one for long, babe, but I'd—"

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, fuck, I'm gonna—" It's like a yelp from Jonny's mouth, his breath frantic, ass tightening up around Patrick's cock like he's trying to hold off, keep himself from tipping over, and Patrick sits up quick, pushes Jonny flat to the mattress for better leverage, for an easier slide into him.

There's something vicious about the way Jonny takes it like this, overheated, ass up to bounce it on Patrick's hips. He feels so good. Fuck, he feels so good.

Patrick wants to tell him, but even just a few seconds later it's too hard to talk, voice caught with his breath somewhere in the tops of his lungs. All he can do is watch, keep moving. Stare down at the full stretch of Jonny around him, the way it looks like Patrick shouldn't fit, even now.

When Jonny gets an arm under himself in telltale motion, hips jerking back, Patrick's heart kicks and he glides a hand down to touch where Jonny's hot. One fingertip to feel the bump of his cockhead underneath skin right before Jonny starts pulsing, wringing at him, coming _good._

Patrick lets that little spasming pull out his own orgasm, slick heat swooping through his belly, knocking him stupid. He holds himself still just to see if they'll pulse in time, but he can't tell, not when Jonny sinks onto him to the root and stays there, grinds back like it'll make the last little bit of his nut just that much better.

It makes Patrick's better—overwhelms him with it, that sharp sweetness spread through him from his dick outwards, never long enough.

He slumps over before it's quite done, weak with it, eyes closed while the soft hums Jonny's making register through the haze, deep and quiet, constant enough it's like he can't help it.

Patrick shifts himself towards the sound, noses up Jonny's arm, slow along his neck until he turns his head and Patrick can kiss him, cover those hums with his mouth, skim his tongue inside to lick in deep against Jonny's own.

He doesn't feel entirely calm even minutes later, with his lips tender and after his body's already gotten with the program, warm and slack against Jonny's side. He still feels a little bit like he's buzzing, even while his eyes droop.

He stares at Jonny's eyelashes. The flutter of them every time he seems to bounce back into wakefulness, staring too, something so distracting about it that Patrick doesn't even notice the hand Jonny lifts to his face to trace a pointless line over Patrick's eyebrow. One, then the other, careful down the side of his cheek, all along his jaw until he reaches the divot in Patrick's chin, gives it a little stroke and lets his hand fall back down again. He shifts his head in closer, like he's going for another kiss, eyes closed, but he just says, "Fucking nasty," with a slur to his voice and the edge of a smile in it, his feet moving into a warm rub against Patrick's own.

"Fucking right," Patrick whispers back, and settles, closes his eyes. Smiles past the snap of expansion in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr and twitter under the same username, come find me, bros!


End file.
